It’s not that the gas mower is broken, or anything. I figure the reason I went out an bought the cheapest (albeit brand new) rotary push mower I could find was this eclectic penchant for the anachronistic I tend to secretly nurture. It’s not an old mower, of course, but it is a kind of old-style mower: and it’s kinda kitchy out there in the yard, whilst the neighbors fire up their screamingly loud gas mowers, to get that whirring buzz of the push-powered grass-chomper out front and do just as good of a job clipping.
Plus all the environmental do-gooder-etc yadda-yadda-yadda…
I got carried away this morning and started clipping the neighbors lawn. It was really more of a momentum-meets-inattention thing, and I did a six foot strip into their yard.
It was a little bit obvious, and looked a bit lame — as if he’d started and just got really lazy; which is not the case, of course. But tell that to the judge. He’s not, y’know, particular or anything about his yard, but about five minutes after I cut the original swath and had decided to just buck-up and finish their whole front yard, he came staggering out the door in his pajamas, and I couldn’t tell at first if he was upset or grateful. I am going to dismiss the suspense and say as the conversation went on it was revealed to be the latter. Or at least I am going to continue assuming. It’s tough to say. Lawns in the suburbs are like this, holy-rite sacred-ground no-go-zone. If he had asked me to mow it, no-prob-bob, right? But I just kinda did it: and how does one interpret that? Is he in his house right now thinking I did it to be nice because his wife just had surgery and since he works on weekends I just thought, impromtu and resulting form my original carelessness, I’d help out? Or is he thinking I’m pissed, because his lawn is a haven for dandilions and I’m stepping in to be a prick? …of which I don’t really care about dandilions, anyhow.
It’s just funny. All this suburbia politics that come into play, our little postage-stamp-size chunks of grass. Weird, y’know.